ETHAN (Hot Small Town Alphas Book 1) Read online

  Ethan

  Hot Small Town Alphas Series

  Amy J. White

  Copyright © 2020 by Amy J. White

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced by any form or by any electronic and mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book may not be redistributed to others for commercial and non-commercial purposes.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  Epilogue 2

  Thank you

  Chapter 1

  Ryley

  My thumbs tap on the edge of the steering wheel from the nerves building in the core of my body. Dreams that I had for the big city shatter over and over again in my mind. After graduating from college with my law degree, I thought transferring to New York was the best idea, thinking I couldn’t make something of myself in the small town I grew up in.

  Things didn’t go well when my supposed partner passed me over for multiple career advances, choosing the bouncy, big breasted, hour-glass shaped blonde who clearly didn’t possess my level of competency.

  Guess I wasn’t his type. After all, I don’t have the hourglass figure, sunlight blonde hair or valley girl attitude. My curves aren’t as defined as the super models one might see walking down the runway. I was the plain girl next door all throughout high school. Thicker thighs, brunette hair, chocolate brown eyes and a larger build that often got me called fat by the cheerleaders.

  Get it together. I think to myself.

  It’s none of those things that has me wanting to find the nearest bar and getting drunk. It’s the thought of what my parents might say – nope, not that either – when I tell them the news.

  Face it girl, it’s none of that. It’s the thought of seeing him again. I swallow the knot in my throat, my guts are a churning mess of nerves along with the rest of me.

  It all started back in high school. The moment my eyes fell on him from across the crowded cafeteria. How could I not spot him? He was one of the tallest boys in school. Whatever gossip my best friend, Thea, prattled about in my ear faded along with the cacophony of voices sitting at the round tables spread throughout the large room.

  His eyes found mine, holding me prisoner for an untold amount of time.

  Ethan Ryder.

  The sexiest and most wanted boy in school stared at me with a raised brow above the rim of the soda he held. His gorgeously mussed honey-colored hair fell into his face when he cocked his head to the side.

  I still remember the knot in my stomach keeping me from eating that day as the intensity of his eyes burrowed into me like one of the tractors his dad used to till their mountainside acreage. My eyes went to the ground, hands fisted on the thighs of my jeans.

  How stupid I’d been when he finally approached me at the end of senior year, asking if I wanted to go out with him, and I told him it wasn’t a good idea since I’d be heading to law school once I graduated.

  I’ll never forget it. It was the worst day of my life. Much worse than going into my former boss’ office when I quit and stormed out to pack up my apartment after calling my mom, telling her I was coming home.

  Here I am years later kicking myself, driving back home and dreading the thought he might be in the arms of another woman. Why wouldn’t he? Did I really expect him to wait all this time?

  The road sign reading Buchanan, 30 miles, brings about another wrench in my gut to the point I think I need to pull over and throw up.

  To pass the time and keep myself from becoming more of a nervous wreck, I let myself think and imagine what Ethan might look like now. Like I said, he was the tallest boy in school; easily well-above 6 feet. What must he look like now?

  For a teenager, he had a large build reminiscent of the kind of work he did before coming to school each day. Eyes the color of my favorite chocolate and a smile rivaling the beaming the light of the sun, Ethan was the perfect package!

  His father owns a horse ranch that sits in the side of the mountain overlooking Buchanan. No one knows how Ethan’s family managed to stay there for the number of generations they did. Especially after the large mudslides a few summers back when we experienced a rather large number of storms.

  Country music plays on the radio, adding to the pseudo-romantic thoughts going through my mind at the moment. Something about kissing someone or not pierces my heart like the sharpest arrow.

  I should’ve. I should’ve kissed him. Told him everything right then and there. What was so wrong with a long distance relationship anyway? A lot of people did it and it works, so why didn’t I?

  15 miles and counting.

  I didn’t think it was possible but my jaw tightens even more. The knot in my throat threatens to choke me. Nothing else matters except seeing Ethan again, even if it’s for a form of closure that allows me to move on.

  Pretty soon, fifteen miles becomes zero. The perfect view of Ethan’s family ranch comes into view. Smoke billows from what I imagine is a controlled burn. Makes sense since the fall crops are coming into fruition.

  I crane my neck as long as I can to keep the beautiful house in view, swiveling to take in the sights of the town to see if anything happened while I was away.

  True to its nature, Buchanan remains as it’s always been. Frozen in history. A symbol of the mom and pop era of America.

  Mrs. Webber’s bakery sits on the corner next to her husband’s general store. Old man Laramie still sits on his stoop smoking his old corncob pipe while the church bells tolls on the hour aided by the Reverend.

  In all the nostalgia, I can’t help but smile. When you spend time in a large city where people scream at you for following the rules of the road, gun shots ring out and sirens whirr at all hours of the night, you forget what it feels like to live in a small mountain town like this.

  Everyone knows everyone. No one’s secrets stay secret for too long and the only regular sounds you hear are the steady whinnies of horses and the clacking of wood from loggers in the distance.

  We have a few stop lights. Nothing like New York, but they do their jobs. One church sits near city hall where it has been since the town’s founding.

  None of that compares to the view though. Sunsets and sunrises are like magic here. The closest I think anyone can get to the world of magic I read about in my favorite books.

  When it thunders, you can hear it bouncing off the mountain range, echoing the sound of a deep shamanic drum. Lightning cracks sound like repeated whips that remind me of the jockeys racing their horses around a track or even the sound of the crop I used, to use to push my dad’s old mare across a wide field.

  My parents live across the single road that cuts through the town. Right across from Ethan.

  I swallow another lump as I draw my old Camry up the gravel driveway leading to my parents’ house. Calling my mom from my apartment went well. She didn’t judge me or slam me with an “I told you so” bite of sarcasm.

  Still, a part of me dreads the thought of her pulling out her lectures of how terrible “city folks” were or how those “corporate types” only took advantage of women, refusing jobs to those who refused to spread their legs for them.

&nbs
p; Turns out she might’ve been right. Who knew if that was why the blonde bimbo from the office got the job instead of me. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t my boss’ type.

  I get out of the car to take in the Colonial house standing in front of me. White siding, wrap-around porch with a rickety old swing dangling in the far corner, and brick chimney jutting out from behind it.

  Yep. Nothing had changed.

  Untamed trees, perfect for climbing, tower over the structure. One of them – which I named Tony – provided me with hours of reading time. Thea and I used to sit there for our monthly book club where we discussed our latest book obsession, imaging what it would be like to be with the guys we read about.

  Wooden stairs creak and whine under my weight during the trudge towards the iron storm door that nearly hits me when my mom shot through it, grabbing me around the neck with a delighted shout.

  “I’m so happy you’re home!” Helen Dorsey’s eyes look me over. “My God, you’ve lost weight! Have you not been eating? Please don’t tell me you’re on one of those big city fad diets!”

  See, I told you. Lectures for miles. “Relax mom.” I manage to gasp under the force of her choke hold. “I haven’t lost any weight. No, I’m not on a ‘fad’ diet.”

  My mom pushes away from me, her hands gripping my shoulders, eyes misty with unshed tears. Both lips drew into a tight line in words we both know didn’t need to be said.

  Thomas Dorsey, my father, came up behind his wife to wrap his bulky arms around my neck. “I’m so glad you are home, Buttercup. It wasn’t the same here without you.”

  I smile at the use of my childhood nickname. “Missed you too, dad.”

  My father always understood me in ways my mom couldn’t, while I was growing up. While my classmates fell in love with dolls, make-up, boy bands and whatever other fad little and teenage girls swooned over, we bonded over things like chopping wood, riding horses bareback, hunting and fishing.

  I looked into those aged eyes, tired from all the work it took to raise a family. He’d developed a full head of white hair mixed in with the dark umber that mimicked yours truly.

  My hand runs through my hair, down my neck as I ponder how to ask my next question. Screw it. “Have either of you spoken to Ethan or his dad lately?”

  Both my parents look at one another, then back at me. Smiles draw the corners of their lips in some inside joke I’m obviously not a part of.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Ry Ry, Ethan’s father passed away a few months ago,” my mom says.

  I draw my hands to my mouth. Ethan’s mother passed while we still went to middle school. His father took over raising Ethan on his own, helping the transition after how close his wife and Ethan were.

  I often saw Ethan storming out of his house with his hands folded into fists. We rarely spoke prior to meeting face to face our senior year. Still, I always tried to keep up with what went on with him.

  “Oh God. That’s terrible. How’s he taking it? How is he?” I ramble off question after question, hoping for more information.

  Another bout of coy smiles is directed my way.

  My dad clears his throat. “Well, that’s why we invited him over for dinner tonight. It’s been a stressful past few months. I did all I could for Ethan when Burl died. I think having a talk with an old friend might help more than chatting it up with me over Bud Light.”

  If my eyes got any larger, they might pop out of my skull. What were my parents thinking? Ethan and I rarely spoke. We certainly didn’t speak enough for someone to call us friends.

  “Are you two out of your minds?” My hand reaches out, palm up. “Did you forget what happened the summer I left? Ethan wanted to date me! Me! I turned him down!”

  Ethan never said anything that night. I saw the hurt in his eyes. The deep dejection when his shoulders slumped and he heaved a sigh sad enough to shatter my heart.

  Could I blame him? I’d chased after him since we were kids with secret admirer notes and gifts of things I knew he liked. When he finally approached me, I might as well have stabbed his heart with a hunting knife.

  My dad offers up his hands in defense. “Easy, Ry. We knew you’ve had it for that boy since his dad brought him to visit for Thanksgiving. Your mom and I thought it might be nice to reconnect over something you both have in common.”

  “Common? Dad, what could I possibly have in common with Ethan Ryder?”

  “How about a loss?”

  I open my mouth to offer a snide remark, shutting it quickly. In a strange way, my dad was right. Ethan lost his father, I lost the job I fought for – gave Ethan up for.

  Surrendering, I heave out a sigh. “Okay, let’s see how tonight goes.” In my heart, I hope Ethan is as forgiving as my parents seem to believe he is.

  Chapter 2

  Ethan

  Panic. That’s the only way I can describe myself right now. Absolute, heart-wrenching panic. When Ryley Dorsey’s mom called, I suspected it would involve checking on me after my dad passed as she did when my mom died.

  But, no. She drops a bombshell bigger than anything I see coming. “Ethan, we have such exciting news,” she says. Her words catch my attention, a knot forms in my throat at the wild hope that she plans to tell me Ryley is coming home.

  Please, you moron. It’s been years. She’s probably some big shot lawyer in a big city somewhere. I tell myself to calm the raging hard on I feel throbbing between my legs.

  “Ryley’s coming home!” She adds.

  If in an alternative reality, a truck could broadside me without any harm, it was this moment. The moment that shatters any sense of recovered normalcy I experienced since the funeral.

  I feel my knees get weak, threatening to take my full 6’ 4” frame from beneath me. “I’m…I’m sorry, what?” Get it together, idiot. “The phone cut out, can you repeat that?”

  “I said Ryley’s coming home!”

  Yeah, that. That’s what I thought I heard.

  My large hand runs over my now sweaty forehead. I hadn’t seen Ryley since the day she tore my heart out while we sat on the fencing surrounding my dad’s horse ranch.

  I remember that day as if it were every day. She looked so beautiful sitting on the birch rails. That beautiful brunette hair done up in one of the braids her mom liked her to wear. She always hated them, according to her.

  She wore that sexy pair of overalls with cut off pant-legs she made herself with such confidence despite her larger size, I could do nothing more than wonder if she was the same shy, self-conscious girl from school. I knew this because no matter how she reacted to me in the hallways, I always made it my business to keep up with her. Kind of stalker-ish, I know, but it was the only way I could get a hold of her.

  Every time I tried approaching her, she bolted like I planned to bite her or something. A grin lights across my face at the thought of biting her tender flesh. If only.

  Hell, she didn’t know it, but each time we crossed paths when we were kids, I always shot glimpses at her when she asked how I was doing. The crush got stronger when my mom died and dad and I got into one of our bull sessions, resulting in my storming off.

  It wasn’t until that day I garnered enough balls to catch her on the fence that I managed to stop her enough to get my feelings out, asking her if we could give us a chance.

  Hearing she planned on leaving broadsided me harder than any news I’d gotten in my life. No matter what, Ryley was always there. She might not have known it, but it meant a lot to just know she was there.

  Maybe that’s my own damn fault. I took advantage of her always being there. Sitting on my emotions and never telling her a damn thing.

  She probably thought I wasn’t interested or teasing her with something she thought she might never be good enough to have. Fuck, that wasn’t it at all.

  What the hell would she be coming back now for?

  “Ethan, you there?” Helen says.

  “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

  “Oh good, w
e were wondering if you might come over for dinner! We know it would mean the world to Ryley.” The hint of her “all-knowing mother” routine isn’t lost on me.

  Just do it. Say yes. See her. If she flips you off, saying she has a rich fiancée, then that’s that. “Sure, that’d be nice. How is she?”

  Helen tells me things don’t sound good by the way Ryley described her situation to her mother. “She isn’t just visiting, Ethan. She’s moving home.”

  Wait, what? A thought occurs to me. Maybe something went wrong with her time in New York. Did someone hurt her?

  That thought makes my free fist roll against my thigh. If someone hurt Ryley, that someone would be in for a bad time. “What time?”

  “Ryley should be home by 4. Can you come at 5?”

  I shake my head more eager than I meant to. Thank God Helen can’t see me. “Yeah. I’ll be there. Thank you, Helen.”

  I hang up, mind firing a million synapses a minute. What would I say to her? What if she’s mad at me? Or worse. What if she thinks I hate her?

  One last glance into the mirror offers me a chance to try to calm myself. My eyes scrutinize everything from my messy honey-blonde hair to the dark green plaid shirt to the nicest pair of blue jeans I own. Work boots finish the clear mountain man ensemble. Something a woman who spent time in the city most likely might scoff at or offer to buy a stuffy suit for.

  Stop it. Ryley’s not like that. I shake my head to shut my inner judge up. Still, the fear remains that time and setting changed Ryley into some cold corporate, judgmental bitch. Stop that!

  “Well, can’t get any better. Might as well face her.” I swallow another hard lump. The lumps had stayed a constant since the phone call with Helen.